


Home is a Fire

by tinypinkmouse



Series: Sometimes, They Win [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I can't call it a happy ending, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, but at least they're alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 01:43:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6175282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypinkmouse/pseuds/tinypinkmouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It only takes one choice to set the world on a different path, too bad Barry made the wrong one. With everything falling apart around him, all Barry can do is try to hold on to whatever is left.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Diverges from canon during the end of the season one finale.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Home is a Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to alamerysl for the beta, and for making this infinitely more readable!
> 
> The story has Cold/Flash and Heat Wave/Flash as two separate relationships, and includes graphic sex scenes for both pairings. The title is borrowed from a [Death Cab for Cutie song with the same title](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2G-tgrHb4ug).

He'll never get used to the feeling of his arm sinking into someone's chest like there's nothing in its way. He doesn't want to get used to it, because in the end, if he closed his eyes he might just as well be phasing through a wall - there's no way to tell the difference.

So he always keeps his eyes open – anything else would be stupid in the middle of a fight – and every time it still makes him want to cry and throw up. He swallows the bile crawling into his mouth and before the soldier has slumped down the ground at his feet he's already moving again. There are more of them – there are always more of them – and the whole building is on fire and there's no _time_.

He dodges the beam of _heat_ from Mick's gun – everything is on fire, but nothing is quite as hot as that. He grabs Mick and in a flash they're gone from there, out through the flames, leaving the soldiers still inside to burn. He's barely gotten them outside when his vision blurs and he stumbles, he grits his teeth and fights through the fog. He forces himself to run just a few more steps, just far enough to get them into an alleyway and out of immediate sight at least.

Then everything goes dark and the next thing he knows, Mick's arms are around him, holding him up. Mick doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. They both know it was a stupid move but they also know there really wasn’t a choice.

Mick is holding something to his mouth – where the hell did he get an energy bar from? – that tastes like stale cardboard, but he barely notices, and that's still better than some of the things he's eaten lately. Before he know it the energy bar is gone and _it's not enough_.

"Sorry kid," Mick says, voice low and he's close enough to feel the vibrations in Mick's chest as he speaks. He doesn't have the energy to answer, just leans his head against Mick's shoulder when the other man scoops him up and starts carrying him away.

Thank god for Mick.

* * *

He uses his speed to push Len up against the wall, covering Len's mouth with his own. They kiss almost frantically, desperately. Barry's still in his suit, Len's still holding the cold gun in one hand, his other arm around Barry's waist, trying to pull him closer. Barry pulls his head back – Len bites at his lower lip as he does so, and Barry gasps – adjusts his hold on Len and seconds later they're in his bed, clothes removed with super speed.

His bed. It’s been his for the last few nights and it still is today. Part of him wishes it didn't have to be this way, wishes they had time for something more, something slow. Wishes they had time for a bed that they could actually call their own. He grabs the lube from where he's dropped it on the floor next to the bed – no condoms though, somehow getting hold of those hadn't been a priority after a while.

Len groans when Barry's finger pushes into him. "More," Len says, both as permission and demand, and Barry does as he's told. He wants to open Len up, to lay Len out before him and have him moan and beg from Barry's fingers alone. Instead Len tenses under him when he inserts a third finger a bit too fast. Barry would slow down, but Len is already pushing back against his fingers, breath coming out in a sharp hiss.

"Now," Len says, his voice hitching slightly. Barry pulls his fingers out.

"Turn around," he tells Len, his voice coming out needy. He can have this at least, if not the time to do this properly. He keeps their eyes locked together as he pushes into Len. He can't remember when they last bothered with anything but minimal prep. Maybe they never did.

Len bites his own lip to keep quiet. A moment later, Barry's all the way in and he leans forward and kisses Len, swallowing whatever sounds he was about to make. Then Barry starts to move, setting a rhythm that's almost too fast. For a few frantic, hot, dirty moments there's only the two of them and nothing else matters.

Barry can feel himself start to vibrate – he can't help it, fights to keep it slow enough to not hurt Len. "Barry," Len pants out, it sounds like a plea and a warning all wrapped up in one. Barry wraps a slowly vibrating hand around Len's cock and Len gasps.

He fucks into Len a few more times before he comes, vibrations dying down slowly. It only takes a few strokes of Len's cock before he follows. The world comes crashing back as they both get out of the bed. Barry gets a wet cloth to clean up with. It's cold against his skin and makes him shiver. Len doesn't seem to notice the cold when Barry wipes the come off him, but he kisses Barry quickly when he's done, light and sweet, before picking up his clothes and starting to dress.

Barry lets himself take a few moments to watch; he'll be dressed faster than Len anyway.

"I'll drop you off on the way," he says once he's back in his suit.

"Thanks, Scarlet."

* * *

Nothing is the way it's supposed to be.

Everything is different – no, not just that, everything is _wrong_. This can't be how things are supposed to be. He'd thought he wasn't supposed to remember, that his memories should have changed along with everything else. Did something go wrong, or is this just the way things are supposed to be: he comes back and everything but him is different?

There isn't anyone he can ask, and didn't Wells – Thawne, _Eobard_ – lie to him about it already? He said he could undo all the evil _he'd_ caused, but Barry couldn't, could he? Eobard had still been stuck in the past, and now he's gone, because Eddie... Barry swallows, clenches his fist and flips to another page in the photo album.

The smiling faces of himself with his parents look up at him. It's a picture from his graduation. Apparently he became a doctor, like his dad. He doesn't remember any of it. Iris told him his mom died in a car accident two years after that picture was taken but his last memory of her is still from that night when he was eleven. At least he knows she lived, that at least some version of him had the life he was supposed to have.

A hand lands on his shoulder. "Barry, we need to go."

He looks up at Iris, blinking back the tears he hadn't realised were falling. Gently, she plucks the photo album away from his hands. Her eyes are red rimmed, and he wonders if she's been crying too.

It hasn't even been two week since Eddie… he still can't even think the word and he has no idea how Iris is still here helping him when Eddie was the only one she had left after Joe… Barry swallows hard, tears blurring his vision anew. Joe is gone too, not for that much longer than Eddie.

"It's not safe here," Iris says.

He nods. "You're right."

He takes a last look at his childhood home.

* * *

"Fuck," Barry snarls as the beam of cold misses.

From what Jay had been able to tell him before his death at the hands of Sand Demon, Barry had been pretty sure he'd be no match for Zoom's speed. It's more than clear now, that even if he wasn't ready to faint from hunger most days, he'd still not be nearly fast enough to take Zoom down.

But it doesn't matter. Zoom might be faster, but Barry is intimately familiar with a speedster's weaknesses. He doesn't need to be faster than Zoom. Barry reaches for his connection to the Speed Force and takes aim again – where Zoom will be, not where he is – because all he needs is one hit to slow Zoom down.

Barry squeezes the trigger, the air around the gun turning icy, and he grits his teeth at the spike of cold that travels up his arm.

It _hurts_. It always hurts.

This time his aim is true and the cold beam finds its target. Zoom manages to take a few steps forward, pushing against the cold, until he falters, falls to his knees.

A part of Barry remembers that this is the moment he used to stop. Incapacitate and capture, but that never worked out so well before either. So he keeps the squeezing the trigger, his teeth chattering at the cold, until the cold gun runs out of charge.

Barry has to concentrate on his steps as he walks closer to Zoom – he's tired and cold and hungry. Zoom is covered in ice, no longer moving. Barry thinks he can still see the occasional spark of blue lightning through the ice, though. He falls down to his knees next to Zoom, sets the cold gun down next to him. 

Barry's arms starts vibrating. He bites his teeth together, fights for every bit of speed and slowly some of the chill that seems to have burrowed into his bones dissipates.

He plunges his arm through the ice, straight into Zoom's chest.

He has to be sure.

* * *

The little flame Mick's been staring at for the last however long dies suddenly.

"I'm bored," he announces.

Barry can't say he's surprised exactly. They've been laying low in this shack in – well, to be honest he's not totally sure where they are, or that it really matters anymore, the world as a whole isn't doing too great at the moment and countries aren't what they used to be. There's no one else around and there's food, and that's all he really needs to care about.

Mostly it's old canned food left over from whoever owned this cabin in the woods, but it's _food_. He's also long since gotten over his squeamishness about hunting down his own food when he can – he's fast enough that the wildlife doesn't stand a chance, if he's had something to eat first anyway – and woods usually mean some sort of wildlife.

Of all the places they've stayed… well, this is nice. Barry's been in sore need of both food and rest. They both have to tell the truth. He thinks they could stay here until… until something shows up to ruin it.

Peace doesn't last forever in this world, and sooner or later something will find them, whether it be by accident or purpose and Barry just wants to enjoy this while it lasts.

Mick's tolerance for _peace,_ on the other hand has never been the best. If Barry's being honest with himself, he’s not very good at sitting around and doing nothing either. It gives him too much time to think. He has too many regrets to want to spend too much time with his own thoughts.

In less than the blink of an eye he's straddling Mick's lap, forehead leaning against Mick's.

"I'm sure we can think of something to pass the time," he whispers.

Mick tilts his head back, one hand circling Barry's waist, the other finding a place at the back of his neck in a hard grip just this side of painful, as their lips meet in a slow kiss that leaves both of them slightly breathless. Barry grinds his hips down against Mick's, who growls in response and pulls him back into another hard kiss.

Barry moves his hands to tug at the hem of Mick's shirt and Mick tightens his grip on Barry for a moment before letting go. Barry knows Mick's fingers leave behind rapidly fading bruises but he doesn’t mind. He pulls off Mick’s shirt, then his own, tossing both to the ground carelessly, and then takes the opportunity to slide out of Mick's lap and remove the rest of his clothes while he's at it, before they both get distracted.

Mick hasn't bothered to move from where he's sitting on the small cot – the shack is sadly lacking in any other things to sit on – and is leaning back against the wall behind him. His gaze travels slowly over Barry's naked body, and for a moment Barry just stands there and lets him look, batting down the impulse to move, to act.

Neither of them has ever been known for their patience and it'll ever only be so long before one of them gets tired of looking, but not touching. With a small grin Barry gives in and lets himself fall on his knees in front of Mick.

He unfastens Mick's pants and when Mick lifts his hips off the cot he slides them down together with Mick's underwear. Impatiently Mick tries to kick them the rest of the way off, seemingly having forgotten that he's still wearing his boots.

Barry feels a swell of fondness at the display of familiar impatience.

"Let me," Barry says stilling Mick's movements with a hand to his thigh. There's a low rumble from Mick, but he settles down and lets Barry unlace the boots, and Barry makes quick work of removing the last of Mick's clothing while never letting himself slip into superhuman speed.

Without any urging from Barry, Mick lets his legs fall open and Barry takes the hint. He moves between Mick's legs, his hands on Mick's thighs, feeling the muscles twitching slightly and the effort it takes for Mick to hold still. He glances briefly at Mick's hands pressed against the mattress.

"Get on with it already."

Mick's voice is low and rough. Barry grins slightly and moves one hand to grip Mick's half hard cock. Without any further preamble bends his head down, and guides it into his mouth. Even half hard it fills his mouth, warm and heavy on his tongue. He sucks gently, and starts bobbing his head, his hand moving in counterpoint to his mouth.

He feels the cock hardening in his mouth. Mick's hand lands on the back of his head, fingers twisting into his hair roughly. Barry relaxes his throat, moving his hand to Mick's hip as Mick pushes his head down until Barry's lips are wrapped around the base of his cock. He swallows around the intrusion, breathes slow and steady in through his nose, the smell of Mick heavy and pervasive, his own cock slowly hardening.

The pressure on the back of his head lets up and he slides back. Slipping one hand down to his own cock, he doesn't resist when Mick pushes him down again, lets Mick control the rhythm, up and down, fists his own cock, matching the pace instinctively.

Mick's breaths are getting faster, more ragged. On the next bob he keeps Barry's head down, and Barry can hear him take a steadying breath. His fingers dig into Mick's hips and he lets his throat vibrate around Mick's cock. Mick's fingers press into his scalp.

"Fuck." He hears Mick say with a shuddering gasp.

Barry's jaw starts to twinge and he has to fight the urge to gag. He lets his own cock go and moves his hand to grip at Mick's thigh. Barry can't quite keep his breathing steady anymore. Tears are gathering at the corners of his eyes, he pushes futilely back against the unrelenting strength of Mick's hand. A heartbeat later the pressure lifts and Barry lets the cock slide out of his mouth, gasping slightly. Mick pats his hair almost tenderly.

It only takes a moment for Barry recover before moving up to straddle Mick's thighs while Mick's hands settle on his hips. He keeps his eyes on Mick's face as he slides two of his fingers into his own mouth. Mick's mouth is slightly open, his breathing shallow, his eyes on Barry's mouth. Barry swirls his tongue around his fingers slowly, making sure they're good and wet before he pulls them out with a wet pop. Mick's gaze follows his hand as he reaches behind himself.

Barry can't help the small gasp that falls from his lips as he pushes both fingers inside himself. Mick's grip on his hips tightens at the sound, and his eyes shoot back up to Barry's lips. Barry bites his lower lip as he fingers himself open with fast, efficient movements.

"You good?" Mick asks when Barry pulls his fingers out.

"Yeah," Barry answers.

Mick grabs hold of his own cock, guiding it in as Barry lowers himself down, hands gripping Mick's forearms to keep himself steady, the feel of the old scar tissue familiar against his palms. Barry holds his breath as the tip goes in without too much effort. Then both of Mick's hands are back on his hips, pulling him down, Mick's cock stretching him out more than his own two fingers ever could. He bites down on his lip and can't help the whine that slips out anyway, his fingers digging into Mick's scarred skin.

Then, finally, Mick is all the way in and Barry takes a slow breath, trying to get used to the feeling. He lets his forehead fall against Mick's shoulder.

He can feel as much as hear the low, rumbling chuckle. "Too fast?"

He takes one more steadying breath and relaxes his grip on Mick's arms. He lifts his head and leaves a small kiss to Mick's shoulder where healthy skin meets scarred. Barry slides his hands up along Mick's arms as he lifts himself up. The friction is still almost too much. Mick's hands on his hips steady him as he sinks back down, this time letting Barry set the pace. Barry's eyes fall shut as he moves slowly, gasping at the feeling of Mick filling him up, stretching him.

"Kid…" Mick growls, and Barry's eyes fly open. He knows what that look means; Mick is moments away from just taking what he wants. Barry grabs the back of Mick's head, his lips finding Mick's in a bruising kiss as he starts to move faster, Mick's hips rising to meet him every time he sinks back down.

Mick wraps one callused hand around Barry's cock. Barry bites lightly at Mick's lower lip before letting his head fall back, not even trying to stop the gasps and moans coming out from his own mouth. When his whole body starts to slowly vibrate, he doesn't fight it. Mick lets go of Barry's cock and grabs Barry's hips, pulling Barry down to meet his upward thrust, and Barry feels the hot come filling him.

Mick slumps back down, and Barry starts pumping his own cock, Mick's hand joining him a moment later; it doesn't take more than a few strokes before he comes with a shudder over both of their hands. With a last few shudders, the vibrations die down and Barry's body grows still.

He leans in to give Mick a quick kiss before carefully getting up, Mick's slackened cock slipping out easily enough. They use the old, ragged blanket to wipe away most of the mess, before tossing it to the floor.

The cot is too small for both of them to lie down on – really, it's too small for Mick to lie down on alone – but Mick leans against the wall and pulls Barry against him. Barry traces patterns on the scarred skin of the arm wrapped around him.

"We need a plan," Mick says after a while, like it's Barry's job to provide them with one.

 _We have a plan_ , Barry wants to protest, but really all they have at the moment is a… long term goal. He knows he hasn't been thinking about what they should do next, when they inevitably have to leave this place. Just _lingering_ here is its own kind of recklessness.

_If you want to survive, always stay one step ahead of your opponent._

Most days neither of them mind the ghost of someone else between them, but sometimes it still makes them snap at each other, expecting someone else to answer.

Barry sighs. "You're right, I know. I just wanted to... " He shrugs. "I wanted to forget for a moment."

Mick's arm around him tightens, his other hand patting Barry's thigh in a mostly awkward gesture. Barry smiles and covers Mick's hand with his own.

"I'm burning this place when we leave," Mick says.

"Of course."

* * *

He's smiling as he runs back toward the future.

He did it, he saved his mom.

He doesn't think about why future him had shaken his head at him, what it could have meant. It doesn't matter because he _saved his mom_. His mom is safe and he can still stop the Reverse Flash, he knows he can.

He comes out of the wormhole fist first, and the time-ship shatters around him.

"You saved her!" Wells yells at him, like that means Barry should have let him go, should have let him get away with everything.

It turns out Wells is still faster than him, and when Wells threatens to kill _everyone_ all Barry can think is that he should have let him go, his mom is safe and he should have let Wells go. Somehow things haven't gone like either of them planned.

Then Eddie shoots himself and the world starts to unravel.

* * *

"I'm going to miss this place," Mick says gruffly, a note of wistfulness to his voice.

Barry looks around at the debris littering the abandoned street. He isn't sure he recognises his city anymore. Maybe it hasn't really been his city for a while now. "I'm sure there'll be other places like it, with fewer...memories."

"Nothing burns as beautifully as home."

Barry huffs out a dry laugh, despite himself.

"I'm sure you're right, Mick. You ready?"

"Yeah."

He grabs hold of Mick and _runs_.

* * *

"Cold," he says as calmly as he can, trying not to betray how his heart is racing even faster than usual. This is definitely stepping over one of the lines he swore to never cross, but what choice does he have now?

"Well if it isn't the Scarlet Speedster. Come to say hello?" Snart asks with a smirk, looking up from the book he'd been reading.

Barry can't help but feel a bit jealous at how unflappable Snart manages to be, even when the Flash suddenly appears outside his jail cell.

Barry wishes he could just phase into the cell – if anyone happens to look, the Flash just standing around in a prison corridor is not exactly subtle – but he's not that good at phasing anything but himself and trying to do it to any delicate equipment might have disastrous results.

"I came to ask for your help actually."

"I would love to help, I'm sure. But as you can see," Snart lifts a hand to vaguely indicate his surroundings, "I'm a bit held up at the moment."

"Yeah, about that…" Barry grabs the bars of the cell, vibrating his hands until he can slide the door open. He almost grins at the genuine shock that briefly flits over Snart's face. Barry tosses him the cold gun and goggles he's been holding out of sight.

Snart grabs them without missing a beat. "Well, this is a change."

"Just don't kill anyone," Barry hisses at him, suddenly feeling angry – at Snart, at himself, at having to trust Snart again – but he doesn't have that many choices left anymore and at least he has half an idea what sort of man Snart is, even if their history isn't quite the same in this timeline as the one Barry remembers.

"I can't make any promises, Scarlet." He pulls the goggles over his eyes, and looks towards Barry. Barry doesn't know what Snart sees, but he makes a small nod. "But I'll play along. For now."

That'll have to be good enough, Barry supposes. He holds out a hand to Captain Cold.

"We should hurry." He offers as an explanation, since it doesn't seem prudent to just scoop Snart up and run away with him.

"I see we're getting Mick out too," Snart says with a nod to the other gun Barry is still holding, before he takes Barry's hand. In a flash, Barry pulls him closer and they're off.

* * *

"Look, I really don't recommend using the particle accelerator again, but if you want to risk destroying Central City or, you know, the universe, you're free to turn it on, but don't think I'm going to help you."

Some days Barry's fingers still itch with the urge to punch Hartley in the face. Unfortunately, Hartley is currently the smartest person Barry knows, and Barry needs him.

"It was just a question."

"And my answer is the same as the last time you asked it."

Barry rubs his neck, and gives Hartley what might pass for an apologetic look if one squints.

"I thought our current situation might have changed your mind."

"It's not that dire yet."

"And it never will be?" Barry asks, feeling tired and resigned.

"I'm amazed. You actually do learn, if I keep repeating something enough times."

"Fuck you Hartley," Barry says and Hartley just waves him away with a smile. Barry has better places to be anyway.

* * *

Barry struggles against the hands grabbing hold of him, but his ankle is broken and there's no way he can run on it. There are just too many of the enhanced soldiers, and while he can use his speed to hit them hard enough to hurt, there's no way he can manage to do it to all of them, every time.

There are always so many of them.

The beam of cold narrowly misses Barry – the chill still makes him shiver – as it strikes the soldier behind him and freezes him entirely. Barry scrambles away, hobbling on one leg. Part of him wants to yell at Snart for killing someone, but how else was Snart supposed to stop them?

 _Wasn't that why you broke him out?_ A part of him whispers. _To do what you can't?_

"Mick!" Snart yells as he hurries to Barry's side, and wraps his free arm around Barry's waist to steady him. Rory takes the hint and covers their retreat as they hobble toward Snart's motorcycle. It feels like an eternity before they reach the bike and then they're finally driving away, Barry pressed against Snart's back, his arms around Snart's waist, his broken ankle screaming in pain.

* * *

When the dust finally settles, more or less literally. Barry finally has time to notice all the people who are missing, and it's not just Eddie and Ronnie. He traded Cisco and Caitlin and Joe and who knows how many people he never knew for his mom.

He doesn't remember this timeline, he only remembers the old one. Is this the one where he's supposed to marry Iris? Somehow it doesn't feel like it.

His dad's hand settles on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, son."

"I'm glad you're here, Dad."

And he is. He's glad that his dad never went to jail for a murder he didn't commit. He's glad his dad got to spend all those years with his family instead. But how much did everyone else have to pay for that?

It doesn't feel like a fair trade.

* * *

He can see the city in the distance. They're too far away to really see all the damage, but he knows it's there. It's been seven years since he was home last, and he doubts things have gotten any better since then.

"It hasn't all been bad, has it?" he asks.

"I've had fun, kid," Mick says with a smile.

It's not the most reassuring expression, Barry thinks.

Barry looks at the cold gun now held in Mick's hands.

"No regrets?"

"You have them to spare, I don't need any of my own," Mick answers, but the way he holds on to the cold gun seems to say something different.

"I…" Barry starts to say.

"Don't." Mick cuts him off before he can get another word out of his mouth. "Don't say it. Not now."

Barry nods. "I'm not sure what will happen," he says instead.

Mick just shrugs. "I guess you'll find out."

Barry gives Mick one last look, trying to make it say… he isn't even sure what, before he takes off toward Central City.

* * *

"Isn't this a nice little gathering," Snart says when Barry deposits him in the middle of the cortex. He holds his gun to his shoulder and surveys the people there; Hartley, Dr. Stein and Barry's dad. "Maybe you should tell me why I'm here."

"I'll get Heat Wave first," Barry says. Snart blinks, and then smirks at the name. Right, he wouldn't have heard it before, not the way things worked out here. "I'll be back in a moment, so just behave until then?" It comes out sounding much more like a question than Barry meant it to.

"Sure kid, I can give you a moment."

Barry casts an apologetic look at the others, before speeding away. Really, leaving them with Snart was by far a better idea than leaving them with Rory. He could have run all the way back with both of them, he supposes, but no one would blame him too much for not wanting to do that. He didn't quite trust them not to somehow manage to do _something_.

Moments later Barry skids to a halt where he'd left Rory, far enough away from Iron Heights to not be found while he got Snart back to Central City.

"I see you haven't set anything on fire," he says, and internally curses his stupid mouth for saying things it shouldn't. So yeah, he might be a bit nervous being alone with Rory, a lot more so than with Snart.

"Not yet," Rory says in a low rumble, but he doesn't seem too annoyed, at least judging from what he knows about Heat Wave. Come to think of it they've probably kept him away from fire during his time in jail, and now that Barry's given him back his gun he's probably more than a bit anxious to put it to use.

Right. Maybe Barry should have waited before doing that, but he hadn't been sure how easily he'd manage to break both of them out, and it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

"Uh… we can stop somewhere on the way. I mean, I can find something for you to… you don't actually need it to be… alive, right?" Barry wants to cringe at how he sounds, but does his best to stand his ground.

Rory's look feels like it's weighing him, and Barry isn't sure what conclusion he comes to.

"Sure kid," he says after a moment of silence. "Anything will work."

So Barry takes a detour to find what looks like a small abandoned barn. He watches the smile on Rory's lips and the flames reflected in his goggles as he sets fire to the thing. This is probably the wrong thing to do, like enabling him or something, but at least he's not aiming that gun at people right now – and Barry is going to ask him to do exactly that, isn't he?

He walks to stand next to Rory, close enough to the fire that the heat almost takes his breath away.

"Beautiful," Rory says reverently.

Barry stares into the flames, his eyes watering. It is… entrancing in a way, he has to admit; the heat, the crackle of the flames, but most of all the way the flames dance as they engulf everything in their way.

"Yes," he admits, though he's pretty sure that whatever beauty he can find there doesn't come close to whatever it is that Rory sees.

"We need to leave," Barry says sometime later, when he finally hears sirens in the distance. Rory nods in acceptance.

"...cities have been having similar problems." He hears the tail end of a sentence from Hartley as they stop inside the cortex.

"What took you so long, Scarlet?" Snart asks as he turns around to look at them. "Mick. What did you do?" Snart asks, as soon as he actually sets eyes on them. Barry takes a look at Rory, and realises the man is covered in soot and Barry is probably not much better off himself.

"Nothing," Rory says indignantly. "We just made a little stop on the way here."

"Flash," Barry's dad starts to say.

"I'll just… go clean up," Barry cuts him off, flashing out of the room before anyone can say anything more.

He speeds through a shower in a way he usually doesn't, and pulls on a pair of sweats and a S.T.A.R. Labs sweatshirt. There's a knot in the pit of his stomach when he walks into the cortex with normal speed in his bare feet, his hair still damp from the shower.

"I see you decided to settle the argument on whether or not to reveal your identity to our guests," Dr. Stein says calmly, with a definite undercurrent of disapproval.

His dad just gives him a sad look, and Hartley… well, who cares what Hartley thinks anyway.

"So, you're the Flash." Snart sounds highly unimpressed. "Do you have a name to go with this revelation?"

"Barry," he answers, Snart's lack of reaction setting him oddly at ease. "Barry Allen." He looks over at Rory, who looks mostly indifferent at this turn of events.

"So did everyone already fill you in while I took Heat Wave to blow off some steam?" Barry asks. He has to fight off a grimace when he realises just what he'd said.

"More or less. It seems like it's Central City's turn to follow Starling's stellar example, and you want our help to save the city." Snart recaps shortly. "What's in it for us?"

"I did break you out of prison," Barry points out, hoping that his dad or Dr. Stein won't decide to voice their opinions on that at the moment.

"And I appreciate that kid, but that only gets you so far."

"Central City is home, isn't it?" Barry asks. "And besides, I'm sure I'll be too busy to notice whatever you do when you're not helping us."

That elicits some muffled noises from both his dad and Dr. Stein, and Barry has to admit that part of him feels like he's making a deal with the devil – again.

Snart gives him a long look at that. "We'll think about it, kid," he says and starts sauntering towards the exit, cold gun slung over his shoulder. "Mick, we're leaving," he says without looking at Rory.

"I'll show you the way out," Barry says.

* * *

Why the hell hadn't Iris agreed to move somewhere safer?

That thought bounces around in Barry's head as he weaves between the small army of enhanced soldiers surrounding the place they think she's being held at. He punches at superspeed and one soldier falls back, hopefully down for the count.

He should have waited for Rory and Snart to join him, but the moment he'd found out where the Trickster was holding Iris, he'd been off. Is the Trickster the one steering all the enhanced soldiers in Central City? He can't be, can he?

He punches another soldier, and a sword blade has time to nick his side. _Damn it!_ He has to get to Iris!

One of the soldiers he'd felled already, groans, shakes his head and gets up from the ground. Barry wants to scream, his hands are clenched into fists, shaking.

For a moment everything stands still.

He yells, and slams his fist into the back of the soldier nearest to him. His hand sinks into the back, and it's surprise more than anything that makes his hands slow down. It's only a fraction of a second, but he can feel… he pulls his hand out, swallowing his own scream, and the soldier in front of him starts falling toward the ground.

Suddenly, beams of cold and heat shoot past him. He turns to look at Snart and Rory, who've finally had time to arrive. They're blurry shapes, but their guns are unmistakable. Why can't he see properly? He blinks rapidly, and suddenly realises he's crying.

"Go," Rory roars at him. "We've got this."

_Iris!_

* * *

"You should start calling me Len, kid," Snart says, holstering the cold gun the moment they stop in the alleyway a good distance from the previous fight. They'd separate and find their own way to their newest temporary hideout. Somedays Barry really misses how easy it had been when S.T.A.R. Labs hadn't been such an obvious target.

"Why?" Barry blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

Snart's lips curve in a smirk, the look in his eyes intense. Barry's still standing too close to Snart, he realises. He takes a step back, at the same time as Snart moves forward. Barry swallows and backs away another step, the smirk on Snart's lips seems knowing.

"Because," Snart says in a low voice, taking another step toward Barry, and Barry finds his retreat stopped by the wall behind, "it would ruin the mood if you don't."

Barry can feel Snart's breath on his lips as he whispers the last of the words, he closes the gap between them, arms leaning on the wall, framing Barry, as their lips meet. Barry gasps, his mouth opening slightly and Snart – Len, yeah, Len – pushes his tongue into Barry's mouth. It's too much, too fast and Len's whole body is pressed against him. With the wall behind his back, there's nowhere for Barry to go – he's not sure he wants to go anywhere. He should want to stop, this is _Captain Cold_ and he's not someone Barry's meant to want.

He slides his hands around Len, inside his parka, like he's trying to pull the other man even closer. He can feel the edge of the cold gun press against his leg. He tries to twine their tongues together and he can't help it when he starts to vibrate. Len's mouth on his feels dirty and wrong, and oh, god so good.

The kiss is over too quickly, and still leaves them both panting with reddened lips, and Barry forces his vibrating body to still. There's no smirk on Len's lips now, Barry thinks with a strange sense of satisfaction. His hands are still inside Len's parka, and Len's hands seem to have found their way around Barry.

"Len," he says, and it comes out in breathy whisper.

There's the sound of footsteps from the street. "We'll have to continue this later, Scarlet," Len says, sounding too composed for Barry's liking, but he's right, this isn't the time or the place.

Maybe, once he gets a bit further away from Len, he'll remember that there isn't a time or place for… whatever this is.

* * *

It feels eerie being back at S.T.A.R. Labs after having been gone for so long. Well, it's been a few months really, but it feels so much longer. Barry walks into the cortex where Hartley is just powering down the last of the equipment still running.

"Where will you go?" Barry asks. There's only the lights left now. It doesn't really matter if they leave everything running or not, but somehow that'd feel wrong.

"Someplace that's doing better than Central City," Hartley answers.

"And where's that?"

Hartley looks at him like he's an idiot, but Hartley usually looks at him like that. "I don't know yet."

Barry's not sure why he expected anything else It's not like they get much news from outside these days. It's just that Hartley usually knows more than most people anyway.

"You really should think about leaving too, Barry."

Like usual, Hartley has a point, even when Barry doesn't want to hear it.

"Maybe you could find your father and that girl of yours," he says starting to walk toward the exit.

"Iris," Barry says, feeling annoyed, and follows after Hartley.

"That one. I mean you did have the right idea moving them out of Central City."

Barry thinks that Hartley might be angling for information there; he never did tell anyone where he took them. The lights turn off behind them as they head toward the exit.

"Germany," he says. "I took them to a little town in Germany." It had seemed like a good idea at the time; he'd hoped that it'd take longer for all the trouble they had to reach Europe.

"It's as good a place as any, I suppose," Hartley says and Barry can't decide whether Hartley approves of the choice or not.

"I can't leave," Barry says, and he knows he sounds too… emotional.

"You won't get any faster staying here. Hell, half the time you can't find enough to eat to keep up what speed you do have." Hartley sounds almost angry, and Barry has to wonder if that's on his behalf or if Hartley is just angry at him.

"I can't leave yet," Barry says, his voice determined.

"Zoom," Hartley says and Barry nods. Hartley pushes the doors open and steps outside, Barry follows him and the click of the doors falling shut sounds final.

"I don't want that hanging over me, on top of everything else."

"You're still too predictable," Hartley says.

Barry snorts at that. "And I still don't like you."

For a moment they just look at each other, before Barry takes a step toward Hartley and pulls him into a hug, which ends when Hartley's hands somehow end up on Barry's ass.

"You do make me regret some things," Hartley says with a slightly overdone leer, but Barry thinks he can see something real behind it.

"Take care, Hart," he says, ignoring the fact that his voice might sound a tiny bit choked.

"You too Barry," Hartley answers, before turning away.

* * *

He barely side steps the punch from Mick, fighting his own instincts to speed up and instead keep his movements within normal human limits. He manages to land a hit himself, but at normal speed Mick hardly notices it. And again he barely manages to get an arm up to block Mick.

It goes on for a while, until Mick lands a hit that has him doubled over and panting.

"You're getting better," Mick says, sounding satisfied and maybe just a bit proud.

Barry straightens himself up. "Doesn't really feel like it," he says, and batters down his own frustration. It is getting easier to not slip into superspeed when he doesn't mean to, but damn it he _wants to_.

Mick walks over to where he'd left his heat gun and picks it up. He levels it at Barry, and Barry just has time time to throw himself out of the way, still moving at normal speed.

"Definitely getting better."

Seriously, Barry thinks, he's either going to die of hunger or from training with Mick.

* * *

He stands, staring down the pipeline, still in his suit, but with the cowl pulled down. Barry doesn't know why he came down here. The pipeline is empty again, and if it's up to Barry it'll stay like that. Even if he has to fight Weather Wizard – or which ever of the metas try something next – a hundred times.

 _"We didn't want to let him free after what he did to Detective West."_ Dr. Stein's voice echoes in Barry's memory. Barry clenches his fists and his nails dig into his palms. Mardon should be locked up, but not here, not again. _"But it seemed more prudent than letting any of the metahumans die once the particle accelerator was turned on."_

He'd been too busy worrying about Mardon earlier to think about it, but now he has to wonder why they hadn't even considered moving the metas in this timeline. Maybe he should ask, but he isn't sure he can handle another shocking revelation It's only been a week since he found himself in this timeline and he's had too many of them already.

"Barry," his dad's voice says from behind him. "What Mardon did…"

"I don't _remember_ what he did." Barry cuts his dad off, as gently as he can, even though he wants to yell those words at him. He can hear what sounds like awkward shuffling behind him. Maybe this is just as strange for the people here, that he's almost, but not quite the Barry they know. "Why did you let them go?"

There's an awkward silence before his dad answers.

"We couldn't let them die, Barry." His dad sounds both tentative and somehow reprimanding, like he isn't sure whether this Barry actually thinks that they should have.

"No," Barry says hastily. "I mean, why didn't you try to move them?"

"Where could we have taken them?" His dad sounds honestly bewildered, and it doesn't take Barry long to reach the right conclusion.

"You don't know the Arrow, do you?"

"The Starling City vigilante?" his dad asks slowly, a weird tentative note to his voice. "No one's heard much from Starling since it… fell."

Barry turns to look at his dad. "What happened?"

"No one's sure about the details, there's not much left of Starling anymore. It was shortly after the particle accelerator failed, so we didn't really pay attention until Starling was already gone." His dad shrugs, looking slightly guilty for some reason, maybe he thinks he should have been paying more attention to something as big as that. "There's been… rumors, unsubstantiated reports mostly, that whatever happened in Starling might not be an isolated event."

He'd been right, Barry thinks, this is not a revelation he wants to hear. How the hell had him saving his mom's life caused the demise of a whole city? Except… the timing couldn't be coincidence, could it? That wasn't long after he visited Starling.

"I didn't go to Starling just before the accident, did I?"

His dad shakes his head. "Barry…" his dad starts to say, in response to whatever it is he sees on Barry's face.

Had Oliver died because Barry had had no reason to chase the impossible?

His dad closes the distance between them, hugging Bary to himself, and Barry hugs him back, desperate for the comfort offered.

"It's not your fault Barry," his dad says, and he sounds so sure of that.

Of course, Barry knows he's wrong.

* * *

Barry wakes up on something soft – a couch, he remembers – with his head in Mick's lap and Mick's fingers slowly petting his hair. It takes him a while to remember why something feels wrong.

He feels actually rested in… what seems like forever. They're two weeks out of Central City, and if Barry had been up to his normal speeds, they could be anywhere on the globe by now, but they aren't. They'd finally actually found enough to eat that he doesn't feel hungry, and after eating he'd just, sort of, fallen asleep.

"You haven't slept at all, have you?" Mick's hand stills, and Barry levers himself up into a sitting position.

"No."

And of course that isn't a revelation really, since they rarely sleep at the same time. It doesn't seem safe.

"Do you need to?" Barry asks, peering at Mick in the dimness. The house they're occupying for the moment seems to have been abandoned for a while, and there's no electricity at all. He wonders what happened to the people in this small town, there doesn't really seem to be anyone around at all. Maybe they just all left, he thinks in a bout of optimism.

"Not yet," Mick answers.

Barry nods because he has no reason not to take Mick's word for it. Then he leans into Mick's space, moves his hands to the sides of Mick's face and kisses him.

He's never done that before, but it feels like the thing to do.

Mick growls, grabs hold of his waist and pulls him into his lap, still kissing Barry.

* * *

He can't breathe. It's feels like he's choking on air.

The cold gun is grasped loosely in Mick's left hand, hanging against his thigh.

Barry can't tear his eyes away from it.

He swallows, tries to force out words.

"What…?" he manages to get out before he falters.

"Someone got lucky," Mick says shortly. "Guy looked like a shark, but he burned just fine."

Barry gasps in air. "Len."

"I burned everything."

Barry takes a few faltering steps toward Mick.

"I never told him…" He chokes back a sob, there's no time for that anymore.

Mick closes the distance between them, and grasps Barry's arm. Maybe he thinks Barry would fall down otherwise; he might not be wrong. He lifts the cold gun, handing it over to Barry. It feels like ice in his hands, and far too heavy. He hugs it to himself, and the cold seeps into his chest.

"Neither did he," Mick says, and Barry doesn't know if that's supposed to be comforting.

* * *

He's running, faster and faster, the Speed Force flowing through him. Visions flash past him and he wants to scream and cry, but instead he bites his lip and runs _faster_ , mind focused on that one single point in time still burned into his mind, even after everything that has happened.

Then suddenly he's there and he wants to grab himself and shake the stupid right out of him, but before he can do anything his vision blurs and… he's looking out through a gap in the doorway at himself.

No! Not like this, it wasn't supposed to go like _this_.

There's no time left to think about it now. _He_ has to decide, he clenches his fists and doesn't move.

And then there's just… there's just… everything stops.

His mom.

He tells her they're alright, even though it might be a lie.

He swallows back the scream, when the light goes out in her eyes. _There's no time._

He calls the Speed Force back to himself, feels the wormhole calling for him and _runs_.

He runs out into the (un)familiar (past)future and there's still _no time_. There's hysterical laughter bubbling somewhere at the back of his mind. How is the fastest man alive always running out of _time_?

The man in yellow is still there. The Reverse Flash. Wells. _Eobard_. The time-ship shattering around his fist is horrifyingly familiar.

"You didn't save her!" Wells yells at him.

There's no time to hesitate, no time to think. No time to let _Eobard_ see what's coming. His arm sinks into the yellow covered chest, through it. He tries to swallow the acrid taste in his mouth. He pulls his arm away.

There's a surprised look on the Reverse Flash's face, the red splotch on his chest still spreading.

Barry falls down to his knees. His hand stops vibrating. It isn't even bloody. He's retching, throwing up until there's nothing but bile, tears streaming down his face. Someone is holding on to his shoulders, saying something and he doesn't care.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." His voice is raspy and the words burn in his throat.

Oh, god. Please, not like this.

He still _remembers _.__


End file.
